


The Wall of The Missing

by iwasanartist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bittersweet, Character Death, Childbirth, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Marriage Troubles, Reconciliation, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, black sheep, drama/tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7602691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasanartist/pseuds/iwasanartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plenty of people went missing the night the Ministry fell, but no one expected a Weasley to be one of them. Arthur and Molly are rocked to the core when Percy becomes one of many memorialized on The Wall of The Missing, and a new face comes out of the woodwork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Previously on Fanfiction.net. Reposted here in a slightly tweaked form.

Arthur had just began to sift through a mountain of paperwork when he heard a knock at his office door. Davis, one of his colleagues popped his head in when Arthur looked up.

"Hey, are you doing all right?" Davis asked as he walked into the room. 

"I'm well," Arthur said. "But very busy. You know, Bill just had his wedding over the weekend, and then with everything here – it's been three days, and I've barely made a dent in all of this" 

"Yeah," Davis said as he absently ran his fingers across a box of quills. 

"Davis?" Arthur said. "Did you need something?" 

"Yes, sorry." Davis answered. "I'm just...I'm afraid I'm just not very good at this," Davis paused, as if trying to find his next words. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about your boy and I hope everything turns out okay." 

"George?" Arthur said. "Thank you. We were all shocked about it, but boys will be boys." The words tumbled out of his mouth as naturally as he could make them. The cover story for George's run-in with Death Eaters had been a simple accident. "Thankfully it was just an ear. Healers say there shouldn't even be any hearing loss." 

Davis cocked his head to the side and looked at Arthur, his brow furrowed in confusion. "No," he said. "I meant Percy..." 

"Percy? What do you mean?" 

Davis ran a hand down his face before sitting in the chair opposite Arthur.

"I'm sorry, I just...I thought you knew..."

"Knew what, Davis?"

"I saw his photograph on The Wall this morning."

Arthur had never run through the Ministry so fast. How could he have been so stupid? Percy worked directly with the Minister of Magic. The Minister of Magic fell in a battle that was being covered up as an experiment gone wrong, and apparently no one had seen his son in a week.

The "experiment" had taken out an entire wing of the ministry in an explosion. The wing was saturated with magic, and all spells that had been cast to lift the wreckage died before even the smallest of pebbles were raised. Search and rescue was being done by hand.

The devastation was extensive. Many people – including Arthur – had lent a hand in the efforts. Arthur moved a lot of rocks that first day, helped pull a few people out and directed them to the nearest healer. Not long after, rescuers stopped hearing cries for help. They stopped finding people who needed rescued – only those who needed recovered – and by the end of the day, most of the people there had been told to go back to their offices. Back to their normal jobs, and cleanup crews would take care of everything – and everyone – else.

The Wall started the next day. Mothers and fathers, sons and daughters who realized a family member hadn't come home began placing photographs in case anyone had seen their loved ones. Pulled them from the rubble. Taken them to St. Mungos.

On Day Two, people began leaving notes of encouragement and love, candles, trinkets and anything else that reminded them of their little piece of what had collectively become referred to as The Missing.

Arthur had heard of The Wall, but hadn't been to see it. Too much work.

And now, as he sprinted through the building, he didn't take the time to notice the items that had spilled out from The Wall. A teddy bear here, a vase of flowers there. Arthur kept moving until he reached his destination, skidding several feet to a halt.

It was bigger than he expected. The Wall stood about a meter high and stretched the length of the foyer. A collage of faces smiled back at him. Some waving, others holding up just-opened Christmas gifts or blowing out candles on a cake. Notes accompanied some. 

_Mummy, come home soon!_

  _Thinking of you, Paul. Stay safe._

  _Happy birthday, Eddie! Your cake was delicious...come back and have some..._

 Arthur scanned the photographs, hoping that Davis had been wrong. That he'd mistaken someone else's son for Percy.

 But then he saw it.

About halfway down The Wall was the picture of his child – different from the rest in its stillness. Percy was glancing down, a playful smile on his lips, as if he had been captured mid-chuckle. 

Arthur reached his hand out and placed it on the glossy paper. A stifled sob escaped his mouth as he fought tears. His whole body shook, and he thought he might have toppled over, if not for Davis, who had finally made it to the wall, huffing and puffing and reaching his arms out to steady his friend.

 "Are you ... okay ...?" he asked between gasping breaths.

 Arthur's hands dug into the sleeves of the other man's robes, clenching it in his fists.

 "It doesn't .... It doesn't have to mean anything," Davis said as his breath recovered. "Maybe he was on holiday. Or he's just laying low for a while after the bat...after the accident."

 "You don't know Percy," Arthur said has he straightened up and wiped at his face. "I don't think holiday is in his vocabulary."

 They stood in silence for only a moment before Davis gave the photo a closer look.

 "Is that a muggle photograph?" he asked.

 "Yes," Arthur said absently. "The muggles have created devices that will show moving pictures, but they can't do like us."

 "Do you know who took it?"

 Arthur examined the image once more. Percy was sitting against a tree in what looked like the countryside, clearly enjoying the company of someone just out of sight.

Who did Percy know that would take muggle photographs? That could make him smile like that? Who did he know that would miss him days before his family ever gave him a thought? 

"I don't know," Arthur said, and those words filled him with almost as much sorrow as seeing his son's face on The Wall of the Missing.


	2. A Broken Burrow

Most of Arthur's nights were late. Sometimes it was work that kept him at the ministry well into the evening. Other times, it was a mission with the Order that kept him from home. But most of the time, it was The Wall.

When he realized that Percy seemed to not only be missing, but missing from one of the most serious attacks on the Ministry of Magic since Grindelwald, he didn't want to believe it. Over two days, he went to Percy's office. To his flat. To the library and a myriad of shops and pubs he thought the boy might frequent. Finally, he went to St. Mungos.

And when all leads turned dry, he went home. To his kitchen. To his wife.

And then the fighting started.

 

> _You work in the same building; how did you not notice he was gone?!_
> 
> _Why didn't you tell me sooner?!_
> 
> _Why did you let everyone treat him so poorly?!_
> 
> _You pushed him away. It's your fault he's missing._

A chill had fallen in The Burrow. At first, Arthur tried to write it off as a sign of the times made worse by Ron's travels with Harry Potter, Ginny's enrollment at a much darker Hogwarts, and the twins' general penchant for mischief at a time when it could very well get them killed.

But Percy's disappearance was the proverbial last straw.

It started as silence. Cursory greetings were given as he walked in the door, but meals were shared wordlessly. Soon, the greetings stopped. And after that, the shared meals. What began as a prepared plate resting for him in the warmer turned into a pot on the fire and then nothing at all.

Gone also were the nights of warm embraces as they drifted to sleep, curled up in each other's arms. They may as well have slept in separate rooms for all the space between them. And then they did.

With little to come home to, Arthur devoted himself to The Wall. Every night he would stand in the shadows, watching his son's photograph, waiting for somebody to visit it. There were times when he thought it had finally happened, and Arthur did not hesitate to descend on the visitors who might have a relationship with his son.

There was a group of friends and a woman – even a sharply dressed young man, once – but they all just stared at him with pity and apologized for not knowing Percy.

But Arthur was determined. He would wait for hours, increasingly staying so late that he opted to sleep in his office rather than make the journey home. Soon his trips to The Burrow were largely just for meetings with the Order or when Molly would send tersely written notes requesting his presence because one or more of the children would be home. As heads of the family, they had a charade to uphold after all.

Arthur's colleague, Davis, had been a godsend during all of this. Sometimes he would keep Arthur company at The Wall. Other times he would stop by Arthur's desk with lunch – and once even a fresh shirt and pepper-up potion when he realized Arthur hadn't been home in days. He was even kind enough not to comment on the careless, patchy stubble that adorned Arthur's jaw until it had overcome its sloppiness, filling out into a neat, ginger beard and moustache.

And sometimes they would just talk. Davis was sympathetic to Arthur's troubles, but – newly divorced himself – it didn't take long for "I'm sure everything will be fine" to turn to a well-meaning "sometimes things just don't work anymore, and you'll drive yourself mad trying to force them."

Arthur would nod his head at this and quickly change the subject. He was certainly in a rough place with Molly, and he wasn't at all sure he could get out of it, but he refused to completely lose hope in his marriage. Because if he could give up and walk away from their 30 years together, what else could he give up on? His son? Never. _Well, never again_ , the little voice inside his head would sometimes hatefully remind him.

It was that voice that Arthur was trying to silence when he accepted Davis' invitation to visit a pub or several.

"Have a few drinks, find something to laugh at, and help this pathetic old wizard find some pretty witches to bedazzle with his charm." It was fun for a while. The mead flowed freely, and indeed he got a bit of a laugh out of Davis' numerous attempts to pick up women – the most recent of which had ended with his target shaking her head before he had even reached the table.

"Third pub's the charm," Davis said as they neared the Hog's Head.

"Have you ever thought of, I don't know, NOT trawling the pubs in your quest for romance?"

"Where's the fun in that? Davis said with a smile as he pulled the door open and they found a table. Arthur took a seat as Davis ordered their drinks and made a lap around the establishment, scouting his options. It had been a long night, and Arthur was about to suggest they call it done when Davis rushed back to the table, a blonde young woman on each arm.

"Arthur!" he said excitedly, "I'd like you to meet Katia and Persephone! They're new in town."

"Hello, there" Arthur said as he rose to make room for them at the table.

"Why don't you come help me at the bar, Artie. Let the ladies get settled," Davis said as he quickly grabbed Arthur's hand and tugged. Arthur let himself be dragged across the room until they were out of sight of the women.

" 'Artie' isn't going to become a thing with us is it?" Arthur asked.

"Depends on your answer."

"My answer to what?"

"Katia and Persephone are sisters, you see, and neither wants the other to feel like a third wheel..."

"Oh, Davis, no."

"Just one night, Arthur! You don't even have to do anything, just sit there and keep Persephone entertained for me."

"Davis, that girl is half your age."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Davis said. "At the worst, she's two-thirds."

"Too young." Arthur shook his head. "And what if Molly finds out?"

"She'll be, what, more frigid than she already is?" Arthur shot him a glare, and Davis quickly backtracked. "IF she finds out, tell her the truth: I'm an idiot and absolutely hopeless and you were just helping me out." Arthur let the thought roll in his head for a moment. It was almost like a date, but not really...

"Please, Arthur," Davis pleaded. "I really need this. You know it hasn't been the same since Janet."

And in truth, Davis _hadn't_ been quite the same since his marriage collapsed. Invitations to listen to quidditch matches on the wireless while downing a few butterbeers had become nights on the town. His usual neatly combed and parted hair had gotten progressively messier as he adopted styles of younger wizards – to say nothing of the new tattoos that peeked out from under his sleeves. And yet, for all that was different, he was still there for Arthur as much as he had ever been. Maybe even more.

"Oh, all right." Arthur said. "ONE HOUR."

Davis grinned and slapped him on the back as Arthur twisted off his wedding ring for the first time in nearly three decades. Grabbing four steins of ale, they returned to Persephone and Katia.

"Here we are," Davis said as he set the drinks down. They were nice girls – apprentice healers in Russia taking part in an exchange program at St. Mungos. Persephone was particularly interested in muggle history and struck up a conversation that Arthur was all too happy to be a part of while Davis and Katia exchanged any number of pleasantries and stories.

Persephone had just begun to tell Arthur about something called a space station when a bit of conversation caught his ear.

"And just like that, the cauldron exploded!" Katia exclaimed. She and Davis burst into gales of laughter.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, Katia was just telling a story about one day at work when a researcher was experimenting with mixing calming and laughing draughts to make a better anesthetic."

"And the cauldron exploded," Katia repeated. "To this day, no one knows why, but we'll always remember Old Man Miller – the grumpiest wizard you could ever meet – prancing around-"

"With that smile on his face!" Persephone finished. "It was so funny, Arthur. Those researchers were such a stodgy old sort, and to see half of them acting so ridiculous while the other half pondered the miracle of fingers...hilarious. Of course, nothing got done for three days and the majority of the calming draught was destroyed, which certainly caused problems..."

"Oh, Persephone, stop dwelling on the negative," Katia said. "Finish telling Arthur about the moon house."

"The //space station//" Persephone corrected before continuing, but Arthur found himself only half-listening.

"Far up in they sky, farther than you could ever reach by broom, is a giant ship named Mir."

_"Fred, where's your brother."_

"It's so large, that the only way it could exist was for smaller rocket ships to carry it into space piece by piece..."

  _"He's upstairs, and 'can't possibly come down right now.' Something about a cauldron thickness report."_

"And when it was finally built, men could fly up in these same ships and live among the stars for weeks, looking down not just on England or Russia or America, but the entire world."

_"As if the world is going to end because cauldrons aren't all the same."_

"I have to go," Arthur said. "It was lovely meeting you, but I can't stay."

"Arthur, what are you..." Davis was agape as Arthur stood, collected his coat and headed for the door. "Excuse us for just a second," he said as he rose to follow Arthur. "We'll be right back."

Arthur was already out the door when Davis caught up to him. "Hey, where are you going?" he asked.

"Davis, I am so sorry, but I really have to leave-"

"No, you don't," Davis said. "Come back inside; everything's going so well. Let Persephone finish her story; you didn't even ask how the ships stay up..."

"I wish I could, but I have to go-"

"Where?!" Davis shouted, his patience finally worn well past its breaking point. "Where do you have to go, Arthur? Back to that wall so you can hide in the shadows and wait for someone who's never going to come?"

"You don't know that."

"It's been more than a month! How many people have you watched cry over one of The Missing, leave a new note and walk away only to come back the next day and the next and the one after that?" He didn't wait for Arthur to answer. "Hundreds! Hundreds of people have done that for everyone except Percy. No one is coming for that photograph, and even if they do, it won't bring him back. Arthur, it is time to start moving forward."

"That's easy for you to say! It's not your child!" Davis reached for Arthur, but he pushed him away, knocking the man back several paces.

"Don't do this, Arthur."

"I have to."

He apparated before Davis could say another word.

 


	3. Hide and Seek

The Wall was shrinking.

Minister Thicknesse – his strings being pulled by Voldemort – had allowed its creation for much the same reason he had allowed so many to help search for survivors after the attack. It was the same reason there was an elaborate, mournful funeral for Scrimgeour in the following days. It built goodwill and lent itself to a sense of unity.

It was all rubbish of course. Voldemort and his followers cared nothing for the survivors, the dead or their families. But it was a convincing act for those who didn't know the truth, and it hadn't taken long for people to graciously begin falling in behind their new, caring minister. A silent coup welcomed with open arms.

But soon The Wall had become a distraction. A reminder of the past and an impediment to the future. A memo had gone out a few days ago:

 

> **To all witches and wizards of this great community:**
> 
> The Ministry of Magic is proud to inform you that a permanent memorial is being created to honor those most affected by the recent and tragic accident in our very halls. It will pay tribute to the heroes who risked their own lives pulling survivors from the wreckage. The survivors, whose strength and resilience is an inspiration to us all. And the victims – those missing and perished whose absence will forever leave a mark on all our souls.
> 
> The Ministry has assembled a team of artists tasked with the memorial's creation, and all have said they would like to incorporate aspects from the area of the East Wing, commonly referred as The Wall of The Missing. Soon, Ministry workers will begin removing and cataloging items from The Wall and surrounding area for such purposes. If you would like to provide more information on your loved one for the memorial, please bring your favorite item from The Wall to the Department for the Arts and speak with one of the many junior assistants assigned to aid in the project. If you would like instead to retain your keepsakes for display in your home, please collect them no later than one week from today.
> 
> Together, I know we can make sure this tragedy and those lost are never forgotten.
> 
> Yours,  
> Pius Thicknesse  
> Minister of Magic

 

Of course, there would be no memorial. Items from The Wall would be locked away for a decade or more while these mythical "artists" struggled to agree on a common vision. Eventually the memorial would begin to fade from public consciousness – assuming the wizarding world hadn't already gone to hell by then.

And yet, The Wall was indeed shrinking.

Arthur swore at himself as he approached his customary waiting spot. This was the absolute //worst// time to go gallivanting around like a teenager. He was almost (almost) relieved to find Percy was still there, frozen in happiness. And now, like so many times before, he pulled his coat tighter around him, disappeared into the shadows and waited.

Perhaps it was the fight with Davis or the ale or even just the late hour, but Arthur was exhausted, and it wasn't long before he began to doze on his feet.

But then he heard footsteps.

His eyes snapped open and he pressed himself against the wall in an attempt to stay out of sight and not scare off the visitor. Arthur's heart leapt into his throat when a young woman stepped into the hall. Lit only by a soft glow from the tip of her wand, she was shrouded in a cloak, the hood pulled forward to hide her face. Nervously, she glanced back and forth, making sure the hall appeared empty before carefully and quietly approaching The Wall.

It all made sense now, Arthur realized. Even as the Ministry bleated about togetherness, undercurrents of elitism and blood purity had begun to creep in around the edges. With Voldemort in control, it would only be a matter of time before all things muggle were extinguished along with all who carried them. If the young woman had any inkling of what was to come, of course she had stayed out of sight.

But now she walked forward. As she neared, fear grew in Arthur. What if he was wrong? What if she was there for someone else? What if no one really was coming? His fear vanished as she reached out a hand and laid her fingers on Percy's cheek. He thought he could hear her cry. He wanted to call out to her, but his voice caught in his throat. He wanted to go to her, but his feet would not move. Instead, as she reached out another hand and carefully pulled the photograph from the wall, Arthur leaned forward on a nearby table of flowers and other knickknacks, trying desperately to see her better.

He leaned too far.

Not built to support the weight of a grown man, one leg of the table buckled and broke. Its contents fell to the ground in a crash. The girl spun around. The hood of her cloak fell back and the light from her wand brightened as Arthur jumped back – though he didn't know why – to stand behind a statue. He winced as vases and teacups, toys and trinkets continued to spill and clatter noisily.

"Who's there?" the woman said. Her voice was strong. Brown hair spilled out of a loose bun as her blue eyes scanned the toppled table. To some, she may have looked quite plain, but in this moment, to Arthur, she was stunning.

"Show yourself!" she said. She moved her wand across the wall. As she neared Arthur's statue, he stood very still. He was afraid. Afraid that she would hate him. Afraid that Percy only had bad memories to share of the place he once called home. As the light played at the foot of the statue and moved its way up, he squeezed his eyes closed and wished for her to pass him by.

"Percy?" she said. Her voice wavered. "Percy, is that you?" The light from her wand shook slightly.

"No," Arthur finally said. "It's not." The light from her wand stopped moving, as if her grip and turned to stone.

"Come out from there, right now," she commanded.

Arthur stepped out into the light. She gasped when she saw him and then concentrated, stared him up and down, perhaps trying to gauge his age. Her brow furrowed.

"Are you...are you Arthur Weasley?"

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I am, and I've been waiting for you a long time." She stared at him silently. "I know what you must think of-- "

"Mr. Weasley, I'm sorry," she said, cutting him off as she moved toward him. "This may seem incredibly rude, but I just – I have to..." she reached him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close into a tight embrace. She let out a heavy sigh as he wrapped his own arms around her.

"Who are you?" he breathed. "How do you know my son?" He could feel tears on her cheek as she raised her head and put her lips to his ear.

"My name is Audrey," she whispered. "And I love him."

 


	4. Meet The Parents

It was late when they arrived at The Burrow – far past normal calling hours – but Audrey had refused to apparate. 

"It's just this fear I have," she said. "One distraction and there's no telling what could go wrong."

The lights were still on when they arrived by broom, so Arthur led her up the steps and to the door, where he paused. It had been so long since everything was normal that it felt odd to just walk in the door. He raised a hand, but knocking didn't feel right either.

"Mr. Weasley?" Audrey said as he hesitated with one hand in the air, "isn't this your house?"

"Yes," Arthur said. This was silly, he realized. "Yes it is." He turned the door knob and opened the door just a crack. "Would you mind terribly waiting out here for just a moment? I'd like to prepare my wife for all of this."

"Yes, of course," Audrey replied. "I understand."

Arthur slipped sideways through the crack in the door, giving her an apologetic smile as he closed it. When he turned around, Molly's wand was inches from his nose.

"What is your greatest ambition in life?" she asked coldly.

"What?"

"You heard me."

_To find my son, put my family back together, defeat Voldemort and live happily ever after..._

"To find out how airplanes stay up."

"Mollywobbles," Molly said as she lowered her wand and looked him up and down. "Who's with you?"

"How did you know anyone was with me?" Arthur asked.

"Remus Lupin redid the wards yesterday. They picked up your arrival – and the arrival of an unrecognized companion – three minutes ago."

"Right," Arthur said. For some reason, he found he couldn't stop fidgeting. "Right, well. There's someone that I'd like you to meet." He opened the door and ushered Audrey inside. "Molly, this is Audrey. She's--"

Molly quickly raised a finger and shook her head. Arthur stopped speaking as she gazed at Audrey and looked between the two of them. As she brought the raised hand to her mouth, Arthur registered three emotions playing across her face. The anger and irritation he expected. It was the profound sadness that hadn't been there seconds before that threw him off guard. It quickly was replaced by a glare cold as ice.

"What's this then?" she finally said. "Did you come here to gloat?" Arthur didn't understand. "I've known you since you were 11 years old," Molly continued, "And in all that time, I've never known you to be so cruel."

"Cruel? Molly, what is this--"

"Don't take me for a fool, Arthur, don't you dare!" Molly yelled as she swatted away tears. "You reek of alcohol and her perfume, you're not wearing your wedding ring, and-" her voice cracked for just a moment. "And I've borne seven children – YOUR children – I know a pregnant woman when I see one. Arthur Weasley, how could you!" She turned away, unable to face them.

Pregnant? Arthur gaped at Audrey. Well that just couldn't be true.

"Molly, it's not like that"

"Don't start," she replied, an edge to her voice betraying the wrath behind it.

"Would you just let me explain-"

"THERE'S NOTHING TO EXPLAIN!"

Molly turned to face him, and all the words that had gone unsaid between them over the past month and years before that exploded in a thunderous display of emotion.

"YOU NEVER LET ME GET A WORD IN!"

"WHY IS IT THAT **I** ALWAYS HAD TO BE THE PARENT AND **YOU** GOT TO BE THE FRIEND?!"

"THE RING IS RIGHT HERE IN MY POCKET! NOW IT'S ON MY FINGER! ARE YOU HAPPY?!"

"NONE OF THIS MAKES ME HAPPY, ARTHUR, NONE OF IT!!"

"It's Percy's" Audrey said from her spot by the door. The Weasleys paid her no mind, continuing a back-and-forth that had been decades in the making.

"IT'S PERCY'S!" she yelled.

The froze. Molly recovered first.

"Percy?" she asked while Arthur stared, slack-jawed. "My Percy?"

"That can't be," Arthur said.

"I assure you, it can be," she directed at Arthur before turning to Molly. "And Mrs. Weasley, I promise you, I have never met your husband before tonight. It's Percy's." Molly gave a little squeak as she brought one hand to her mouth. Arthur continued to stare.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely a whisper. She coughed once, and when she spoke again it was stronger. "We were at the ministry the night of the attack." Her words quickened. "The Minister was there, and he fell. Then in all the chaos, we got separated, and... I lost him." She couldn't stop the shake that had taken over her body. Her throat constricted as tears stung at her eyes. "I lost him."

"Oh, darling!" Molly exclaimed as she rushed to Audrey's side and gathered her in her arms. "It's not your fault. It's not your fault at all."

 


	5. Days Past

Arthur, Molly and Audrey migrated to the Weasley kitchen.

"Thank you," Audrey said as Molly set a plate of biscuits and glass of milk in front of her before setting a similar place for herself and Arthur. Audrey picked up a biscuit and absently tapped its edge against the plate. Her hands had stopped shaking, but nervous energy remained. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should have come to you sooner."

"Why didn't you?" Arthur asked. "I'm not blaming you for anything," he added quickly. "I just..."

"Oh, we don't need to talk about that right now," Molly said.

"It's all right," Audrey said. "I don't mind." She took a deep breath. In truth, she **didn't** mind, but that didn't magically make talking about it any easier. "I didn't know that I was....the night of the battle, I didn't know that I was pregnant. I wish I had. We could have left early. We could have celebrated or something and not even been there, but I didn't know."

A tear slid down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away before setting her biscuit back down on the plate. She had no appetite, after all.

"When the Ministry said that it would handle the rest of the search, I stopped by your department, sir," she said to Arthur. "But I always lost my nerve before approaching you. You didn't know me, and I didn't know you, and I know Percy wanted to reach out and try make amends for...well, he wanted to talk, but he didn't know how to begin. And I didn't know how you would take me, so I never stayed long enough to meet you."

Arthur nodded. He vaguely remembered a message or two about a woman who had been trying to reach him, but he just assumed it was Ministry business.

"A few days later," she continued, "when I realized ... I was so upset. Not because I don't want children, and certainly not because I don't want them with Percy -- I can't imagine a better..." she stopped again, closed her eyes and swallowed. The memory was still too fresh. When she opened her eyes, they were watching her, looks of genuine sadness -- not just for themselves, but for her as well -- were etched on their faces.

"It's all right, dear," Molly said as she reached out a hand and gently rubbed Audrey's arm. Her free hand rested on the tabletop, fingertips barely touching Arthur's as he bowed his head and sniffed. His eyes glistened.

"I know it's irrational," Audrey said, "but when I found out I was with child, it felt like it was God saying he had taken Percy away – that he was gone, but a little piece of him had been left for us. And after that, some days it was all I could do to get out of bed in the morning -- when I could even do that..." She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. "Anyway, that's why. I hope you can forgive me."

"Of course," Arthur said. "Absolutely. There's nothing to forgive."

They lapsed into a brief silence before Molly spoke.

"How did you meet?" she asked. It was far from the most pressing matter at hand. Trivial, really, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to know everything. Audrey smiled at the memory and covered her mouth -- stifling a laugh -- Molly realized.

"Oh, it's silly -- and it's going to sound awful of us," Audrey said. She smiled again, and Molly could almost pretend the wetness in her eyes was from tears of happiness. "We met in Diagon Alley at the stationery shop near Flourish & Blotts," Audrey continued. "I work in the legal department and had just been promoted. Most of my duties had been in research for arbiters, but with the promotion, I'd be helping to write briefs that would go directly to members of the Wizengamot...

  

> _"Can you help me find a quill?" Audrey asked. "And maybe some very good ink and parchment?" The clerk turned with a broad grin plastered to his face. His dark hair was slicked back so severely he could have passed for bald if it had been a different color. She was amazed he had any product left for his moustache. And yet, bits of wax crusted at the edge of the coils he had tried to make of the tips. Everything about the man screamed conniving salesman, but he was the only one available._

"Now, I am not an expert of office supplies but even I knew this man was completely incompetent," Audrey said to the Weasleys. "We got to the inks first, and that was when I saw Percy for the first time. He was waiting out of the way, a package under one arm and a book in the other hand. I actually thought he was quite handsome, even then. I don't think he noticed we were there until the clerk picked up a bottle of ink and tried to tell me it was one of the most superior inks on the market -- made from the juice of berries picked by blind monks at midnight of the three-quarter moon -- which he assured me would provide the richest color I had ever seen.

 "Percy looked up from his book at that, caught my eye and shook his head. Somehow, it was like we had an entire conversation in two seconds without ever speaking a word. I don't know exactly what I was thinking, but I gave him a little wink and plucked the ink from the clerk's hands"

  

> _"So, tell me, these blind monks...were they born blind or were they blinded by the berry growers? Because, I heard that makes a difference..."_

"I caught the clerk completely off guard, and it must have tickled Percy something fierce, because he just threw back his head and laughed -- silently mind you -- and I just remember thinking 'My god. What a lovely smile. I'd very much like to see that again.' As we went from department to department, Percy followed along, and every time the clerk made some nonsense claim, I'd ask an even more ridiculous question and we'd just smile at each other as the clerk floundered until he came up with the most absurd of answers."

She closed her eyes and let the memory wash over her before speaking again.

"It probably would have been cruel if the man hadn't been a complete liar out to swindle me for every knut..."

  

> _"And here's a new product you're sure to enjoy," the clerk said. "Ink bottles are bulky, and even the best unbreakable charms can fail. With this new quill, the ink is actually inside the feather --"_
> 
> _"I'm sorry, no." Percy interrupted as he stepped between them. "I can't let you do that." He took the quill and turned to Audrey. "You don't want this," he said._
> 
> _"I beg your pardon!" the clerk exclaimed. "What would you know about --"_
> 
> _"Yes, hello," Percy said to the clerk. "Here's what I know: Your blind-monk berry ink attracts insects and doesn't absorb well into the parchment you're peddling -- parchment I might add that may feel pleasant and roll up nicely but tears easier than tissue -- and as for this," he said as he held the quill under the clerk's nose, let's put it over here with the rest of the rubbish, where it belongs." He gave it a toss and watched as it landed amid a heap of discounted Rita Skeeter endorsed Quick Quills._

"I don't know if you've ever seen Percy...not just argue but...actually **make** an argument," Audrey said. "The way he wields words and facts and figures...it's like watching a knight go into battle. The clerk stared at him, his mouth gaping open like a fish. Fortunately for him, I suppose, an older woman came up then. Said she was teaching a group of children in her neighborhood to write and needed to know if there was more lined parchment in the back. He rushed off to look, and then it was just Percy and me."

  

> _"Not that I don't appreciate you getting **him** off my back," Audrey said, "but I do still need to find good supplies..."_
> 
> _"Well, what is it that you're hoping to gain?"_
> 
> _"Oh, I don't even know," she answered. "All I know, is I can start out with a perfectly nice, new quill and a fresh bottle of ink, and everything looks marvelous. But legal briefs are anything but brief, and well-before I'm done, I get this odd texture on the parchment and everything seems to be a little sloppier until it's nigh unreadable -- and I can't be sending things off the Wizengamot like that!"_
> 
> _Percy nibbled on the side of his thumb for a moment while thinking through her predicament._
> 
> _"Right," he finally said. "You're in the wrong department."_
> 
> _"What on earth do you mean? I see quills and --"_
> 
> _"No no no," he said with a smile as he steered through the crowd and around shelves and past displays. "A lot of people quite reasonably think that good penmanship requires practice and great penmanship requires expensive quills, ink and parchment. But all you really need is a good knife."_
> 
> _He stopped in a tiny alcove at the opposite end of the store. It was different from the rest of the shop. It smelled of leather and hot coals. A glass display case beneath the counter held a dozen or so knives and daggers. The walls were lined with sheathes and pouches. She actually was admiring one long sheet of leather that appeared to roll up and had a straps for a knife, a few quills and even a bit of parchment -- traveling desk set; no rucksack required -- when a man walked up from a back room._
> 
> _"Ah, Mr. Weasley!" He said. "Here to pick up your blade? Thomas is wrapping it up in back for you. Shouldn't be just a few moments."_
> 
> _"Oh, no need," Percy said. "A demonstration is in order." The man -- William -- nodded._
> 
> _"I see," he said with a slight smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye._

 

"The assistant brought out Percy's knife," Audrey told the Weasleys, "and it was utterly unremarkable. Oh, it was high-quality steel with a good hilt, I could tell that right away, but to hear him talk about his wondrous knife, I was expecting some sort of ornate, jewel-encrusted monstrosity of thing. But it wasn't like that at all. It was..." she paused, searching for the right words. "It was uncomplicated. Efficient. Good."

  

> _"How much for this quill?" Percy asked William._
> 
> _"That old thing?" William said as he looked at the feather, plain and small as if it had come from a pigeon. "Those are a sickle a dozen."_
> 
> _"Perfect," Percy said as he deposited a few knuts onto the counter. He took the quill and stared at it for a moment, before running his hand down it, ruffling the edges. He rolled it back and forth between his palms and then, with a shrug, bent it in several places before stabbing the tip into the counter a few times. When he was done, the quill looked like it had spent a year in the bottom of a first-year's school trunk._
> 
> _Percy took his knife and carefully shaved away the tip of the quill until it formed a sharp point. He dipped the quill in an inkwell by the register, wiped off the excess and began writing on a small piece of scratch parchment. When he was finished, he blew lightly across the wet ink before handing the paper to her._

Audrey looked at Arthur and Molly. She could see Percy in both of them, and it was at once comforting and disconcerting.

"He handed me this scrap of paper, and the first thing I noticed was how perfect it looked. Every letter was neatly formed and connected together with just a touch of flourish. I was absolutely amazed. And then I read it."

"What did it say?" Arthur asked.

"It said 'My name is Percy Weasley, and you have beautiful eyes.' "

  

> _"Well, this is quite lovely indeed," she said very-nearly casually. "But I suppose you've been taking caligraphy classes since you were a child. How do I know it's not just you?"_
> 
> _Percy smiled and ran a hand through his hair before answering._
> 
> _"To be honest, my mother has excellent handwriting," he said, "and she IS who taught me, but if you need proof..." He twirled the quill around in his hand, before extending it's battered, feathered end to her._

"It was the most marvelous quill I had ever used," Audrey said. "It wrote like it had been just plucked fresh from an eagle."

  

> _A bell began to chime outside the shop. Percy jumped and checked his watch before swearing._
> 
> _"I have to get back to the office. If I'm too late, my colleagues could move to abolish the knut or some such nonsense," he said. "But it was very nice to meet you."_
> 
> _"Wait!" Audrey said as she hastily finished writing and pressed the piece of parchment into his hands. In neat script without a smudge, drip or scratch, her name and office number stood out beneath Percy's words. "I thought maybe we could get lunch some day. Compare knives or something."_
> 
> _"I'd like that very much," Percy said. They stood there, smiling at each other until the bell's tune ended and its familiar bongs for the hour of day began. William, the shopkeeper, cleared his throat. "Right," Percy continued with a jump. "I've got to-"_
> 
> _"Go," Audrey finished. "I'd hate to lose the knut, after all." She watched him with a smile as he backed out of the shop's alcove, narrowly missing a display of quills as he turned and just catching a stack of books that threatened to topple over as he brushed by. When she turned back to the counter, William and Thomas were both there, watching her with poorly hidden grins._

Molly wanted to know everything. Audrey told them about the many lunches she and Percy had shared. Lunches soon became dinners, and dinners soon became dates. They were both busy sorts, dedicated completely to their respective offices, and yet, all their free moments were spent together.

She told Arthur and Molly about so many firsts (leaving out the largest for propriety's sake). First kiss. First just-because gifts. The first moment she realized she was head-over-heels in love. She told them about taking Percy to meet her parents -- her mother adored him immediately, and even her father had been pleased at the neat, hard-working young man his daughter had finally brought home. And she politely ignored the tear that threatened to spill from Molly's eye as she told them of the first time she met someone important to Percy.

Audrey had been expecting a visit to the family homestead. Maybe even a stop by Arthur's office or a trip to the Weasley twins' joke shop. Instead, he took her to a quidditch pitch and they cheered on the Puddlemere United reserve team against the reserves from the Appleby Arrows. This was the day she convinced Percy that wizards didn't have the corner market on everything. With a few well-timed snaps, they compared photographs taken of Percy's friend, keeper Oliver Wood, mid-save.

Percy's, developed by a local wizarding photographer, had perfect composition and caught every second as Oliver flew to the farthest of his hoops in a streak of blue and gold and swatted the quaffle away.

Audrey developed her own photographs, using a muggle technique.

  

> _Percy watched her, bathed in red light as they stood in a small closet, and awed as images began to form on glossy paper beneath a pool of liquid. He leaned in close to her and breathed deeply. The chemicals stung his nose, but it was worth it to be so near her, to lose himself in her scent._
> 
> _When the process was complete and the photographs dry, Percy couldn't help but marvel at them. There were three. The first showed Oliver with crystal clarity as he leaned forward on his broom, heading for the hoop as his eyes focused on unseen chasers to his left. In the second, his arm stretched high into the air, a look of pure determination on his face as his fingertips barely found purchase on the quaffle. The third photograph caught him mid fist-pump with a triumphant grin._
> 
> _"This is amazing," Percy said. "I didn't realize it was so close -- he nearly missed!" Percy lined the photographs up on the table and placed his next to them. "Look at that!" he said. "Mine's just a blur of action. Yours..." he reached out a hand and grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer to him. "They're beautiful," he whispered into her ear as he wrapped his arms around her._

Audrey smiled and pulled the photo of Percy from her robes, staring at it as if he were really there, smiling back at her.

“From that day on, I think he was done with wizard photographs.” Audrey slid the photo – a little worse for wear after so much time on a public wall – over to Arthur and Molly. “This was taken just a few weeks before...” her voice trailed off and she swallowed deeply.

Molly reached over and took one of Audrey’s hands in her own as the girl let loose a sob.

“I’m sorry,” Audrey said again. “You deserve to know, and I…”

“It’s all right,” Molly said. “We don’t have to speak of it tonight if you don’t want.”

“But I do,” Audrey said. “I do. I haven’t talked about it to anyone, not really, and it’s just been sitting there, weighing on me. I couldn’t bear to face my own parents, and…” She stopped. Took a deep breath to compose herself and tried again.

“We were at the ministry that night,” Audrey said. “It was the night of your other son’s wedding, right?”

“Yes, our oldest son Bill,” Arthur said. Audrey nodded.

“I had taken some dinner to Percy. He was throwing himself in his work, trying not to think about the wedding. He hated not being there.”

“He was invited!” Arthur exclaimed. “I watched Bill mail the invitation myself!”

“I know,” Audrey said. “I know. But Percy didn’t want to take away from Bill’s day…”

  

> “ _Sweetheart, are you sure you don’t want to go? We could probably still make the reception…”_
> 
> “ _I am absolutely positive,” Percy said._
> 
> “ _But he’s your brother.”_
> 
> “ _Yes, which is why I want him to have a happy wedding and a happy reception with no drama from the black sheep of the Weasley family.”_
> 
> “ _You really think that-”_
> 
> “ _You don’t know, love,” he said. “Every time I go there, there’s some sort of spectacle. Last time, my brothers threw mashed potatoes at my head. They’re better off without me there, trust me. Besides, I’m working on a letter.”_
> 
> _Audrey nodded her head._
> 
> “ _All right, well, I brought you some food.” She set the plate in front of him, and he smiled gratefully. He offered her a bite, but she declined. She loved to just watch him. It made her smile, and when she smiled, so did he, and it was amazing._
> 
> “ _Are you feeling better?” he asked. She’d been feeling ill for a few days._
> 
> “ _Yes, much. Must have been something I ate.”_
> 
> “ _I told you, raw fish is just not a good idea.”_
> 
> “ _Shut it, Weasley, it’s delicious.”_
> 
> _He couldn’t help but laugh and was just about to speak when they heard a loud bang and the floor beneath them rumbled. They rose from their chairs and poked their heads into the empty hallway. It was late, so there was nothing to be seen, but they could hear fighting down the way. Percy pulled out his wand._
> 
> “ _Stay here.”_
> 
> “ _Not a chance.”_
> 
> _Together, they crept down the hallway. When they neared an intersecting hall, they heard a commotion and flattened themselves against the wall._
> 
> “ _Minister, I have to get you out of here; we’re under attack!”_
> 
> “ _I KNOW we’re under attack, you bloody fool! Why the blazes do you think I’m not leaving!”_
> 
> _Percy and Audrey shared a glance. It was Rufus Scrimgeour, the minister of magic, and a member of his security detail._
> 
> “ _Sir, protocol dictates I get you to safety!”_
> 
> _Scrimgeour lowered his voice. They could barely him when he spoke next._
> 
> “ _I don’t give a damn about your protocol. This is MY house, and if you want to drag me out of it, you’ll have to fight me, too.” Percy peered around the wall. The guard had his back to Percy, and began to raise his wand. All sense left Percy. He could have fired off any number of curses, hexes, charms or spells but instead rushed forward grabbing the man’s wand arm with one hand and jerking him back with the other, shoving him to the ground behind them._
> 
> “ _I believe the minister said he was staying,” he said. The guard looked at him dumbly as Scrimgeour cast a quick binding charm. It had been a combination of surprise and luck that let Percy get the drop on the guard, but the minister didn’t seem to care._
> 
> “ _Thank you,” he said as he searched for a name._
> 
> “ _Weasley, sir” Percy said._
> 
> “ _Ah yes. Arthur is it?”_
> 
> “ _Percy, his son.” The minister nodded and slapped his shoulder._
> 
> “ _Well, Percy Weasley, shall we take back our ministry?”_
> 
> _The three them charged through the halls, pulling workers from their offices, pointing the shell-shocked ones toward exits and recruiting the rest to the cause as they continued toward the source of the blast. A bolt of red sparks would have taken off the minister’s head if he hadn’t ducked just in the nick of time. That was when they saw the death eaters and hell broke loose. Curses were flung this way and that as they pushed the tide back._
> 
> _The death eaters seemed to be thinning, and for a moment, it gave them hope that maybe they were coming out on top. Finally, they reached the underground level. The lower levels of a research wing. It wasn’t until they saw the stream of death eaters come pouring through a hole in the wall that they realized just how much trouble they were in. They fought hard, but he fact was that they were outnumbered and the hall was beginning to quake and crumble._
> 
> _Together, they sent a wild burst of energy outward that pushed the rest of the death eaters back through the hole they'd come, creating a bottleneck. At last! An upper hand! They had begun to erect a magical barrier to patch the hole when stones began to fall overhead, scattering them. There was explosion in the department above. That part hadn't been a lie at least._
> 
> _Everyone ran then. The death eaters who were coming in. The ministry defenders, retreating to more stable ground. If it weren't for the masks, it would have been difficult to tell who was who as they all tried tried to escape. But periodically, someone would remember this was a battle and small skirmishes would break out, with hexes and curses flung every which way._
> 
> _It was one of these that struck Scrimgeour square in the chest._
> 
> _Audrey grabbed him as he fell and Percy tossed a hex and a protective barrier so fast that Audrey barely had time to register them before they were on the move again, each with one of Scrimgeour's arms over their shoulders._

Her tea had gone cold.

“I don't know what it was,” she said. “It could have been a falling rock or a falling body, I just remember this tug as Percy got knocked off his feet. I tried to turn back for him, but the crowd kept pushing me farther away. When I was able to look back-” a burst of air escaped her lips, almost like a laugh. “I saw his hair first. He was helping a man up.”

  

> “ _Percy!”_
> 
> “ _It's all right! Keep going; I'll be right behind you!”_
> 
> _Audrey nodded hauled the minister up the stairs, finding hidden reserves of strength from she didn't know where. As she ran, she could hear him mumble something about thin walls. They must have made it topside, and he didn't need to say more for her to understand. She elbowed her way to the edge of the crowd._
> 
> “ _Reducto!” she yelled, making a hole in the wall just big enough to squeeze through. In the commotion, no one else even noticed._
> 
> _Once outside, they both fell to the ground. She crawled to the minister and waved her wand over his form, lying unmoving except for the shaky, uneven rise and fall of his chest as he struggled for breath. But she was no healer. The magic required to treat his wounds – if it were even possible – was too much for her. It stung her body until she dropped her wand from the pain, and when she tried to pick it up to try again, Scrimgeour grabbed her hand._
> 
> _Rufus Scrimgeour was the minister of magic. He was a leader and a politician. He could be a diplomat when required. But before and above all that, he was a soldier. A war hero. And he knew the score. He squeezed her hand tightly, and she squeezed back, watching his face as fear and worry drained away, replaced with a smile for a life well-lived and a calm sense of peace. His grip loosened, and Rufus Scrimgeour was gone._
> 
> _Audrey closed her eyes and shed a tear for the man she hadn't known in life but knew more intimately than most in death. It was then that she noticed the quiet. It was too quiet. She turned back to the ministry and for a moment was surprised to see it standing there, in full. What should have been a wing collapsed to near rubble stood tall, looking ever like the back lot of the shabby abandoned store it pretended to be. It was a testament to the wards that surrounded it. Even the hole she had put through the wall seemed filled and solid, not unlike Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross._
> 
> _She wanted to run once more into the breach. To find Percy and bring him out, but her body wouldn't move. So she sat and waited for him. Listened, hearing only the sound of her own breath and a handful of cars driving down the road._
> 
> _There was a crack and a bang. She smelled smoke. She looked in all directions, and when she couldn't find the cause, she looked up. At first, she just thought they were fireworks. Then the green sparks took shape, forming the skull and snake. The Dark Mark. It dissipated almost immediately, but the message was clear.  
>  _
> 
> _The minister was dead. The Ministry had fallen, and Percy was nowhere to be found._
> 
> _She ran._

 “I’m sorry,” Audrey said. “I shouldn’t have left him. I thought for sure I'd get home and he'd walk through the door...”

Molly reached out and took Audrey’s hand in her own. Her other hand held Arthur’s tightly. No more mingling of finger tips, just outright, hand-holding.

“It wasn’t your fault, darling,” she said kindly.

“No, it absolutely wasn’t.” Arthur reached over and took Audrey’s other hand, and together, like the circle their entwined hands made, Audrey felt somewhat complete for the first time since Percy went missing.

Later that night, Molly refused to let Audrey leave. It was much too late to be riding a broom all through London, and much too dangerous, as well. It had only taken a little convincing to get her to accept the invitation to stay, and it was made all the more willingly after Molly invited her to stay in Percy’s old room. It would be a side of him she had never known.

Audrey was just cleaning up in the bathroom when Arthur entered the bedroom. Molly was turning down the sheets and had opened a window to let some fresh air in. It smelled like a rain storm was coming.

“I suppose I ought to be heading out,” he said. Molly held an old teddy bear of Percy’s to her chest. She kissed its head once before setting it down on the bed, it’s tiny furry head resting on the edge of the pillow. “If you’d like, I could come back tomorrow.”

A fat drop of rain fell on the window sill and a rolling thunder could be heard in the distance. Still, Molly stayed silent.

“I’ll head out then,” Arthur said. He turned and was almost out of the room when she spoke.

“You could stay,” she said. “That storm will be here any minute, it’d be a shame to get caught out in it. Not that it’ll be much better here with all the leaks. The twins are coming over in the morning to thatch the roof.”

With all the magic that went into creating the protective wards around the house, it seemed the environment was supersaturated with it. Trying to fix the roof by magical means hadn’t accomplished much of anything.

Arthur nodded. It didn't seem right to follow Molly to their bedroom. Not yet. Not after everything that happened between them. He went instead to Bill’s old room and settled in among the boxes that created a small wall between the door and bed. He listened to the rain hit the roof, some of it falling through and landing as a steady drip into an old tea cup.

Being there, he felt an odd sense of comfort. It wasn’t perfect, not by far, but it was home. And for now, that was enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting this chapter was tricky. I wanted the memories to flow easily in conversation but also be scenes in their own right. Blockquote, which wasn't an option at FFN, seemed like the best choice here, but I kept the original italics, too. If that's too much or makes it hard to read, somebody please let me know, and I'll just do the blockquote, instead.


	6. The Cellar

Arthur woke to the sound of laughing. It was a sound he hadn’t really heard or appreciated in ages. He got up and got dressed and went downstairs, where he saw Fred and George entertaining Audrey with a some story or another from Percy’s youth. A box of snack cakes sat on the table, and Audrey reached for one, bringing it to her lips.

“I wouldn’t! Arthur called out, the twins have a habit of-” he stopped short as Audrey took a large bite from the pastry. She savored the flavor as dust from the icing sugar covered the tip of her nose and a small bit of lemon cream dribbled onto the table.

“It’s delicious,” she said. Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. He approached the table and reached for one.

“My apologies,” he said as he took a bite. “I guess I just expect all baked goods from these two to be-” Arthur was silenced momentarily in a puff of pastel smoke. “Canary Creams,” He finished with a cough, trying to ignore the yellow feathers that escaped his lips. The twins and Audrey burst out laughing.

“Meet the newest product from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,” Fred said. “Sunrise Snacks, a delicious — and reasonably nutritious — breakfast with a surprise-”

“Or two” George added;

“Or three in every box! Now for the reasonable price of three galleons a dozen.”

“Charming,” Arthur intoned as he wiped the what appeared to be yellow greasepaint from his brow and rolled his tongue around his teeth, checking for more errant feathers.

“Sorry about that, dad,” George said. “We’re trying to phase the feathers and whatnot out of the formula. Guess it still needs a little tweaking.”

“The hair color works nicely though,” Fred said.

“Yes, it’s quite fetching,” Audrey added.

“Hair color?” Arthur rose from his seat and stared into the window, trying to get just the right angle to catch his reflection. Neon yellow stared back at him in place of his customary red locks.

“Blazes, boys!” he said. “You expect people to go to work like this?!”

“It should wear off,” Fred said. “And if it doesn’t you can always wash it out.”

“Wash it out…” Arthur muttered as he left the kitchen, making for the loo and a shower. George rushed off behind him.

“Better make sure he doesn’t grab the joke shampoo by accident. It’s charmed to make you look bald.”

Audrey barely stifled a giggle as he ran off. And then it was just her and Fred. She finished her pastry in silence, calmly wiping the dab of sugar from her nose and scooping up the bit of cream with her fingertip. Fred shuffled nervously on his feet.

“What’s wrong,” Audrey finally asked him. He was silent for a moment before finally speaking with a stuttering halt.

“I don’t imagine Percy talked much about us,” he said.

“He did some,” Audrey replied.

“Probably nothing good.” Fred didn’t sound accusatory or angry. If anything he sounded resigned. Even a little bit sad.

“He had some grievances,” she admitted. “Sometimes jokes that flirt with cruelty can cross a line.”

Fred looked appropriately admonished.

“But he also said – in between antagonistic antics – he said you always knew how to make him laugh. And that was a treasure for those days when he couldn’t find much to laugh about at all. He’d think of you and that gift.”

Fred laughed, grateful for the relief of an issue that had been hanging over his head for far too long.

Soon Arthur returned, freshly showered and red-haired, and George followed. They got to work on the roof and eventually even the Lupins, Remus and Tonks, arrived to help. It was a big job that took most of the morning and into the afternoon. They had just finished and cleaned up, settling down for a light meal when a man came bursting through the door.

They all rose to their feet, wands out. Molly turned her attention to the small table that held for paraphernalia the wards. With everything that had been going on, nobody had noticed the candle whose green flame and turned red.

The man collapsed onto the floor, clearly not a threat, and then Arthur got a closer look. It was Davis, his coworker, covered in sweat and dirt.

“I’m sorry,” Davis kept saying. “I’m so so so so so sorry.” They brought cloths and bowls of water, stripping him of his spoiled shirt and trying to wipe through the grime in search of wounds.

“Merlin’s beard!” Remus exclaimed.

“What?”

“Those markings,” Remus pointed to Davis’s array of tattoos.

“What about them?” Arthur asked. “He got them after his marriage imploded.” Arthur purposely didn’t look at Molly, preferring to avoid an even bigger reminder of just how close their own marriage — still not fully healed — had come to complete and utter ruination.

“They’re not just tattoos,” Remus said. “This is dark magic.”

“Dark magic?”

“Think the Imperius curse mixed with, I’m guessing,” he said as he traced the lines running across Davis’s chest and down his arms, “a fair pit of poison.”

“You’re saying these tattoos…made him do things? Had control over him?” George said.

“Yes, and are now killing him,” Remus said grimly. “Likely for breaking through his orders to do something contrary to what he had been told to do.”

“Can you help him, Remus?” Tonks asked.

“I can try.” Remus got out his wand and began to wave it over the marks, his eyes closed as words were muttered just under his breath. Sweat began to form on his brow. But just then Davis bolted upright, grabbing for Arthur.

“Hold him still!” Remus shouted as people lunged for him, holding him down, but Davis would not be deterred

“No!” He said. “I have to tell – I have to tell Arthur!”

“Tell me what, old friend?” Arthur said, kneeling closer to Davis’s face.

“I'm sorry,” Davis whispered.

“Sorry for what?”

Davis stuttered and sputtered.

“P…P…Percy,” he said lowly.

“Percy?” Molly exclaimed. “What about Percy?” Davis's eyes began to roll back in his head.

“Davis!” Arthur yelled. “Davis, listen to me,” Arthur said. “What about Percy?”

“Not missing,” His voice was barely a rasp.

“Not missing? Do you know where he is?”

Davis nodded, the movement sending him into a coughing fit.

“We need to keep him still and quiet if we want to save him,” Remus.

“Please, please,” Molly said as she dropped to her knees next to Davis’ head. “Mr. Davis, please, if you know where my son is, please tell me? Where’s Percy?”

Davis mumbled something about a field. And an underground cellar near where roses bloomed. Molly knew it. When she was a girl, her mother used to take her there to pick flowers for the dinner table. And for funeral marches.

Without waiting for any more information, she grabbed her wand and took off running. Arthur and the rest of the Weasleys followed. Audrey looked like she wanted to but also turned back to Davis.

“We’ve got this love,” Tonks said. “Go with them.”

Audrey did, running so fast to catch up, but when they reached their destination – indeed old wooden doors set into a mound of earth and surrounded by roses and wildflowers she couldn’t bear to go in. The twins stayed by her side, each supporting her at an elbow. Arthur pried the doors open, and he and Molly disappeared into the darkness.

Inside, it was cold. Downright frigid, actually. Molly couldn’t imagine anybody held captive down here for more than a day, much less the weeks to months that Percy had been gone.

“Lumos,” she whispered shakily.

A thin ray of light emanated from her wand. There was a long table at the center of the room, and they approached it slowly. Percy was atop it.

A low moan escaped Arthur’s lips as he dropped to his knees. Molly went down with him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” she cried, trying desperately to comfort him and convince herself that it was.

But it wasn’t.

His hair was neatly brushed. His skin was free of dirt and blemishes, but it was cold. His arms were folded neatly at his chest, a broken wand, the two ends side by side, in his hands.

Percy Weasley was dead.

 


	7. Family

Bill and Charlie carried Percy out of the cellar.

They had arrived – sent for by Tonks – just moments after Molly's anguished cry flooded out of the cellar. A woman was on her knees in the grass, clutching at Fred's jacket as he sat on the ground with his arms wrapped around her. George stood next to them, a single hand on her shoulder. The boys looked at them with wide-eyed, twin expressions of shock, like they were begging for one one of them to shake their head no. To tell them this wasn't real. It was a sick trick. But it wasn't.

Bill nodded and watched as tears filled George's eyes and his breaths became rapid before he sank to the ground and was pulled into his brother's embrace.

Lupin had told them what to expect. Bill felt a pang of guilt for arriving with that knowledge in hand instead of running with a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind. He tapped Charlie's elbow, urging him forward. As the eldest children – fully grown men in their own right – they felt a sense of duty. A responsibility to their younger siblings and their aging parents, and it was that which carried them into the darkness.

They found Arthur and Molly, huddled together in grief. Bill reached for his mother's shoulder.

“Mum.”

She turned to him, her eyes bright with tears and gasped.

“Oh, Bill,” she cried as she lurched forward, rose to her feet and enveloped him. “Charlie--” she pulled him close, too, and if there were more words, they were muffled in the thick fabric of his cloak. Arthur stood as well.

“Boys,” he said. But it was a choked word surrounded by a sadness greater than they could comprehend. “Oh, my boys.” Arthur took Bil's face in his hands, kissed his forehead and then held him, as wracking sobs shook his body and hot tears streamed against Bill's neck. Bill held tight, rocking ever so slightly, with one hand on the back of his father's head.

His parents, who had always been so strong and hardy, had never seemed more fragile than this moment.

Charlie spoke next.

“Why don't you go back up,” he said, gently leading them to the stairs and sunlight, almost as if they were a pair of dragons needing coaxed from a cave. They followed, and Bill was struck with the thought that indeed Charlie must be very good at his job. When he returned, they approached Percy. Charlie swallowed and let out a shuddered breath.

“All right, Charlie?” Bill asked. Charlie nodded, and reached a hand out, a mumbled “mmhmm,” barely audible, as he gently pulled off Percy's glasses. One lens had a crack down the middle that spiderwebbed out to the edges.

“He always took such good care of these.” They both blinked back tears as Charlie folded the spectacles and placed them in his breast pocket for safekeeping. “How are we going to do this?”

Bill circled the table, biting slightly on the edge of his thumb as he thought.

“I think if one of us levitates the table, the other can vanish the legs, and then we can both take -” Bill paused. He didn't want to say the word. He could see his brother lying there. He could feel – and shared – his family's pain. But saying the word would make it real. But this was real, and his brother deserved to be referred to like the person he was, not the furniture he was atop. “We can both move him.”

Charlie shook his head, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with unshed tears.

“Bill, I don't think I can hold a spell that long. Not right now. Not for the whole trip back to The Burrow.”

Bill returned to Charlie's side and put an arm across his shoulders and gave a comforting squeeze.

“Then we'll carry him home.

* * *

 

 By the time Bill and Charlie reached The Burrow, their arms ached. Lupin and Tonks met them at the fence, each taking a corner of the table, sharing their burden. Entering the house, Lupin led them to the sitting room, where he'd erected a chilled, invisible barrier for Percy until decisions could be made and services held.

Arthur, Molly, Fred George, Fleur and Audrey – Tonks had told them about her during the walk up – stood at attention as they brought him in and laid him down. His wasn't the only body in the house. One of his father's oldest friends from work was on the couch, a thin sheet pulled over him. He had lived just long enough to explain what happened.

Davis hadn't known how the death eaters had...acquired...Percy. No doubt he had been plucked out of the remains of the research wing, but if he had been alive then, he wasn't by the time they nabbed Davis off the street and took him to the root cellar. At first, they just used Imperius to bend him to their will, but it had a habit of wearing off. That's when they moved to the more permanent solution. The tattoos.

“I don't understand,” Arthur said. “What was the point of it all?”

“Divide and conquer,” Lupin said. “With Dumbledore gone, it's no secret among You Know Who's followers that the two of you are the de facto leaders.

“What?!” Molly exclaimed. “We're not the leaders of anything! We don't plan things or coordinate missions; we've always just followed Dumbledore, and look what that's gotten us.”

“Molly, look around you,” Lupin said. “More than half the order is made of your family. Your children. They follow the two of you.”

“Percy never followed us,” Molly said. “He always went his own way, why go after him? Why not us, if we're such great leaders?”

“Because killing you wouldn't stop them,” Lupin said, gesturing around the room. “Your deaths would galvanize them. It would bring them – to say nothing of Harry – together to be more than a thorn in the side of You Know Who.”

“But why Percy?”

“To tear you apart. The loss of a child is one of the worst things a parent can experience, and to lose him without reconciliation...” Lupin took a deep breath. “They knew that if your bond crumbled, the entire operation would as well, like a chicken without its head. That's why Davis' orders were to keep you apart. To cultivate seeds of mistrust and discontent and hasten the end.”

“Nudge me toward leaving,” Arthur said quietly, as he absently twisted his ring around his finger.

“Preposterous,” Molly said. “We're fine here.”

“No, you're not, Mum,” George said. “We know you've tried to make it look like you are, but you're not. We know Dad's been sleeping at the office, and you've only been cooking for one-”

“We look for leftovers to nick every time we're home, you know,” Fred added, eliciting a small stutter of an almost laugh from those in the room.

“We've felt it, too,” Bill said as he pulled Fleur close to him.

“No,” Molly said as she shook her head and wiped tears from her eyes. “No more. This stops now. Whatever plot they had...” she let the thought trail off as she reached for Arthur's hand, holding it tight in her own. “Arthur, would you be a darling and get the wine glasses, please.”

“The what?”

“The wine glasses. Top shelf in the kitchen.”

“Erm, all right,” Arthur stepped into the kitchen, tossing a curious glance – mirrored by the rest of the household – Molly's way as she dug into an old chest. When he returned, she emerged with a bottle of pumpkin wine.

“I'm sorry, darlings,” she said to Bill and Fleur, “we meant this to be a wedding gift, but with everything – ”

“It's all right, Mum,” Bill said as she poured and moved around the room until everyone's glass was full. When she got to Audrey, she waved her wand, and the dark burnt orange of the wine faded to the light shade of pumpkin juice.

Molly held her glass in one hand and Arthur's hand in the other. She smiled at him, and he smiled back and could almost feel the wounds between them mending before Molly turned to address the room.

“They tried to kill us,” Molly said. “And indeed they cut us deeply...” she paused and gave a pained look in Percy's direction. “But from that wound we grow stronger. You see, now – in this moment – we're not just colleagues in The Order. We're not just friends or new acquaintances,” she said with a nod to Lupin, Tonks and Audrey. “We're more than that,” she continued. “Now, we're family. Each and every one of us. You Know Who did that, and it's something he and his followers will live just long enough to regret.”

“Hear, hear,” Fred said as he raised his glass higher.

The rest of the room followed suit as they made a toast. They toasted Davis, who used his last breaths to bring them closure, and they toasted Percy – a beloved son, brother, love and father – and the family he left standing, stronger than ever, in his wake.

 


	8. Phone Calls and Photographs

Audrey and her parents spent most of her pregnancy in hiding. What had remained calm in the month since the attack on the ministry soon shifted, and it became very clear that muggleborns weren't safe. And it didn't seem like it would be long before muggles weren't either. So they hid. Fred and George were their secret keepers, because who would expect the prankster Weasley twins as capable holders of a Fidelius charm?

They were visiting on the day she expressed concern for the legality of some of their products while flipping through a catalog.

“Look around,” George said. “Somehow I think Skiving Snackboxes and Portable Swamps are the least of anyone's concern.”

“True,” Audrey said, “but I choose to believe that our side will win eventually, and my child will grow up in a world without You Know Who. And I'm just saying, when that day comes, and things go back to normal, you're leaving yourselves open to a lot of costly lawsuits.”

“Really,” Fred asked, sitting down next to her. “How so?”

She spent the better part of that day putting her legal knowledge to good use, pointing out their vulnerabilities and what they need to say to limit their culpability in the event of accidents or foul play with their products. It wasn't long until she was writing up disclaimers, warranties and waivers. Even her parents – graphic designers in the muggle world – worked to mock up new packaging that would be pleasing to the eye yet prominently feature the legal notices.

And the day she suggested a new joke product that left the twins in stitches on the floor – for she could have a wicked sense of humor when the mood struck – they offered her a permanent position with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

But as the war raged, they found more of their energy going into the defense products. Clothing with protective charms, darkness powder, distraction makers and tiny emergency backup wands the size of a muggle pencil, built with enough magic to cast three preset spells with mere waves of the hand.

And then there was The Doppelganger.

The concepts behind it were simple, but the execution was anything but. Part polyjuice and transfiguration, part emergency wand and portrait magic, the idea was to create a double, imbued with just enough personality, locomotion and power of its owner to move freely, be a decoy, and even cast one or two spells before reverting to its original, pre-transfigured form.

They were only able to make one prototype before the Battle of Hogwarts, but it saved Fred's life.

He was with her the day Audrey finally went into labor. She and her parents had just returned to London and were settling back into their jobs and lives when it happened. It was the most curious of sensations when her water broke. They were talking about quidditch when a feeling of release and flowing liquid overcame her mid sentence. When she looked back to Fred, he was staring at her, wide-eyed.

“Is that...Is it...Baby?”

“Get the phone,” Audrey said with a nod and a smile. It was finally happening. Fred fumbled for a moment to find the mobile phone, which Audrey realized to him must still look more like something you lay down to cobble a street with than something you use to communicate. When he handed it to her, she immediately dialed her mother at the market. The phone rang in her ear twice before they heard a tune coming from the sitting room. Fred investigated.

“There's one of your...those...tethered to the wall in there,” he said.

“No worries,” she said with a sigh. “We'll just call Da-- oh, god.” she was about to call her father at the office when a wave of pain rushed through her, turning her legs and arms to jelly. She almost dropped the phone, but Fred knelt by her side and took it from her slipping grip. “Fred,” she said through shaking breaths, “call an ambulance.”

Fred rose to his feet, looking panicked for only a second before he spied the sheet of paper attached to a small corkboard on the wall. Though it had made Audrey feel like a child at the time, she was now incredibly grateful her mother had left detailed, step-by-step instructions – who to call, how to call, and what to say – just in case this very unlikely event happened.

When the ambulance arrived, a chipper young woman and burly man rolled a gurney inside.

“Hello, mum,” the woman said as she helped Audrey get situated. “How far along are we?”

“Two weeks past,” Audrey said through gritted teeth as another contraction hit. “I thought this was supposed to start slow.” The last word was drawn out and faded to a whisper as the contraction passed.

“Never any telling,” the woman said. “Some babies take their time getting ready, and then when it's time to go, they just GO. Is this dad, over here,” she asked, gesturing to Fred.

“Oh, erm-”

“Yes, yes he is,” Audrey said quickly.

“Well, come along then, dad,” she said with a smile. “Almost time to meet Junior.”

Fred hurried to her side, just a tinge of pink visible at his ears, and they rolled out of the house.

* * *

 

They were alone in the hospital room during a brief moment of calm. Fred was absently twisting a small plastic bracelet around his wrist. “P. Weasley” and a birthdate two years older than him was typed on it in neat letters.

“I'm sorry,” Audrey said. “I just didn't want to be alone, and I thought this would be easier. I didn't think what it must be like for y-”

Fred released the bracelet and took her hand in his.

“It's all right,” he said. “Honestly, I always wondered what it must be like to Percy, and this is probably the closest I'll ever get.” He smiled, and she couldn't help but laugh just a little. “Plus, I've never been in a muggle hospital. Dad would be so jealous.”

“I'd think your father has seen enough births to last a while,” she said. This time, he laughed.

“Speaking of, the nurses got hold of your dad,” he said. “He's picking up your mum, and they should be here soon.”

“Oh, that's-” her grip tightened around his hand, “-probably not soon enough,” she grunted before a scream overtook her.

The birth was actually quicker than she expected, but the pain was far worse. Fred never left her side and hadn't let go of her hand since grasping it. He used the other to wipe sweat and hair from her brow.

“You're doing great,” he said. “It's all good. Everything's fine-”

“STOP TALKING!” she yelled.

“Don't worry, son, they all say that,” the doctor said from between her legs. “Now one more big push.”

Audrey pushed and let out a scream that she felt surely could have been heard by the entire hospital, half of London and maybe even Diagon Alley, but as the pain subsided and she ran out of breath, the sound was replaced by the wailing of her baby.

“Wow,” Fred said, quietly enchanted next to her.

“Is it...is everything...”

“It's a boy,” Fred said. “He's... he's perfect.”

When the nurses handed the baby to her, she erupted in happy laughter and a wide grin. She looked up at Fred, about to say something when her smile wavered and her laugh briefly turned to a sob. For just a moment, she had forgotten.

Fred pulled her and the baby into a close embrace.

“I'm sorry I'm not him,” he whispered into her ear.

Audrey sniffled, shifted her bundle of joy and brought one hand to Fred's cheek, pulling him closer and kissing the other.

“I'm glad you're here,” she said softly.

“All right Mum, Dad, Baby: Say cheese!”

They looked up just in time to smile for the nurse holding a large camera. The frozen image was ready almost instantly, and once Fred was done marveling over its stillness, they both gave it a good, long look.

“ _Now, we're family,”_ Molly had said nearly a year ago. And it was true. They had the photograph to prove it.

 


	9. Epilogue

Galahad Percy Rufus Weasley was born just a few weeks after The Battle of Hogwarts. He was a latecomer and the first in a generation of children who could truly say they never lived in a world with Lord Voldemort.

He lived with her in London, attending a muggle school during the year and spending summers with Grandmum and Grandpa Weasley and all of his extended family. Eventually, he'd start Hogwarts with Teddy Lupin – and cousin Victoire a year after that – but for now, watching him experience childhood both as she had and as Percy had was the greatest gift she could think to give him.

He had a long nose, and even as a baby it was obvious he would inherit Percy's slim build and height. His thick head of rich, dark brown hair came from her, but the first time a sunbeam hit him just so, illuminating coppery red highlights, it warmed Audrey's heart to its core.

Galahad.

By muggle standards it was an odd choice of name, and by wizarding ones, it was obscure, as they cared far more about the exploits of wizardkind's greatest legend over the muggles he surrounded himself with.

But Audrey had always loved the entirety of the Arthurian tales. She was dreaming of Merlin's magic and King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table long before she ever received a Hogwarts letter.

Muggles often overlook Sir Galahad, too, focusing more on the flash and bang of Arthur's rise to king. But in the legend, Galahad was noted as one of the greatest, purest knights of the order. He, too, pulled a sword from a stone and led the quest for the Holy Grail that he alone was strong enough to glimpse.

But there was more to it than that. Legend also told of Sir Galahad's many adventures with Sir Percival, and something about that just seemed right.

Her Galahad was an imaginative boy, and it wasn't uncommon to see him racing around the yard by himself, waving a toy sword while engaged in battle with monsters, dark wizards and bandits. Such was the case one afternoon as she watched him from the kitchen window. Galahad was sprawled on the ground, holding his sword above him defensively.

“Sir Percival, help me!” he yelled, and for a moment she could imagine a red-haired knight charging over, sword held high to defend his friend.

To defend his son.

Pulling him to his feet and standing back-to-back they fought off all the yard's monsters. And when the evil was slain, father and son walked hand-in-hand to sit under the shade of a tree, enjoying a post-victory biscuit and carton of milk.

“Did you get all the monsters and bad guys?” Fred asked as he entered the yard and took a seat next Galahad.

“Sure did,” Galahad said, offering up a bite of cookie.

“No dragons, I hope.”

“Nope. We rescued them first and sent them to Uncle Charlie...”

Fred and Audrey had grown close in the years since Percy's death and Galahad's birth – a comfortable friendship that blossomed into a gentle romance. She was cautious at first, not wanting to disrespect Percy or Fred by merely trading one brother for another. But they shared a bond. An undeniable love that was different than what she had with Percy, but no less – and no more – powerful.

In the time they had together, she had known Percy better than anyone, and she couldn't imagine a world where he would disapprove.

So she watched from the window and imagined instead Fred, Galahad and Percy sitting under a tree on a sunny day, covered in crumbs and smeared chocolate, laughing.

Together.

Her knights in shining armor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this story - but whether you have or haven't, comments are always appreciated.


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